Hail, Companion
by Neckee777
Summary: After leaving the Companions, Rodnar has made a life for himself. Every day he curses the beast-blood that flows through his veins. But when the Companions need him back, Rodnar is reluctant to respond. With an aspiring teenager at his side, Rodnar must put the past behind him and fight for those he once called family. CURRENTLY ON STANDBY RETURNING SOON
1. Chapter 1

"I don't like this, Vilkas…"

"Don't be a pansy, Rodnar. This place is deserted."

"But even so, my instincts are telling me something's… wrong…"

"Get over yourself. Are you one of the Circle, or are you just another milk-drinker?"

Rodnar rumbled deep in his throat and followed Vilkas through the crypt.

The two Companions had been sent there by a scholar, claiming that there was a fragment of Wuuthrad – Ysgramor's famed battleaxe – hidden within the depths of the crypt.

Rodnar had been on similar missions before. His first – his trial – had been with Vilkas' brother Farkas just nine months ago. Since then he'd done many missions and worked his way up the ladder of the Companions with each time he came back alive. Finally he was here again, undertaking a similar mission.

Rodnar felt a weird sense of déjà vu, and the freshness of the first time he came on a quest like this gave him butterflies.

He and Vilkas had been traversing this crypt for hours now, and not once had they encountered a hostile. Normally ancient Nord crypts were teaming with Draugr, but this one had nothing. That's what set Rodnar on edge.

Unlike Vilkas, Rodnar hadn't relaxed due to the deserted tomb. The absence of enemies had made him more alert, more calculating. He held his skyforge steel sword loosely in his right hand. The hunting bow across his back would be of little use in the confined space of the crypt. Occasionally he'd swing the sword in arcs through the air to keep his muscles warm. He'd be ready for action in an instant.

They made their way through many dust filled corridors that smelled of must and decay. Spider-webs blocked their progress sometimes, and the two wasted many a minute trying to hack through them.

After what felt like hours they made it to the base of the crypt. The room was large and made entirely of stone. Sarcophagi lined the walls. A single sarcophagus lay in the centre of the room. Directly behind it was a table, and on that table was a pedestal. In the faint light, something gleamed on the pedestal.

Vilkas made to step forward, but Rodnar helm out an arm and blocked him.

"What?" Vilkas demanded.

"I don't like this." Rodnar said evenly.

"So you've said."

"Really, Vilkas," Rodnar turned to him. "No traps, no enemies, just a few spider-webs and a long trek and that's it? For a fragment of Wuuthrad? Not one Draugr? Not one skeever? Nothing? Vilkas, something is amiss here. This place, the crypt itself needs to be more defended. Listen to me, shield-brother, I beg of you."

Vilkas furrowed his brow in thought for a while. At last he seemed to have made a decision, and Rodnar hung his head, knowing full well what the decision was.

"The way I see it, there's a fragment of Wuuthrad in this very room. You can turn and run back to Jorvaskr, but I'm not returning to my brothers and sisters without the axe." Vilkas said, holding up an arm. "So… are you with me? Or are you not?"

Rodnar hesitated. "Aye," he said at last, clasping his brothers' hand. "I'm with you."

Vilkas gave one of his rare smiles. "Then let's take that fragment."

Vilkas stepped towards the pedestal when the hiss of an arrow broke the silence in the air.

There was a sickening, squelching thump of the arrow finding flesh, and Vilkas let out a cry of pain.

Rodnar was by his side in a second, supporting Vilkas' weight, sword ready in his right hand.

There was another hiss as a second arrow was released. Rodnar brought his sword up and the arrow glanced off the strong steel.

The sound of shattering wood echoed around the chamber as armoured men broke from their hiding places, wielding an assortment of swords, greatswords and war-axes. Some men dropped from the ceiling and landed lightly on their feet, bows in hand, arrows nocked to their bowstrings.

All of their weapons were made from a cold looking metal. It reflected no light and sent chills up and down Rodnar's spine.

_Silver._

The group of men surrounded Rodnar and Vilkas, who was still on the ground with an arrow through his shoulder, panting, bleeding and sweating.

Rodnar growled. This situation was all-too familiar.

"It's time to die, dog!" One of the men spat.

Rodnar gave a cold snort. This situation was _definitely _all-too familiar. "Yes," he said coolly, "it is. Though it is a pity you have to die by my hand."

Vilkas broke the arrow at its shaft and screamed in pain. With great effort, he rose to his feet and drew his greatsword from the sheath on his back. "And mine." He panted.

The two Companions knew each other well enough to predict how the battle would go. At least a dozen enemies all armed with silver weapons.

Rodnar smiled grimly and launched himself at the horde of attackers. He danced around their blades, wielding his sword with elegance and finesse. It was a dance of death, and enemies were killed with ease around him.

Casting a glance, Rodnar saw Vilkas carving through his enemies with his mighty blade. Where Rodnar had elegance, Vilkas had brutality, and enemies couldn't stand the strength and the skill that Vilkas handled his sword with.

An arrow struck Rodnar in the leg and, grimacing, he pulled it out in one swift motion. He knew adrenaline had numbed the pain somewhat and that he'd have to get the injury looked at later.

He looked around for the assailant and saw him in a corner. He dodged the next arrow the archer shot and in one graceful turn pulled a war-axe from one of his fallen enemies and hurled it across the room. The blade embedded itself in the archer's skull with a satisfying crunch, and the archer hit the ground, a pool of blood making itself known around him.

Another door splintered, and more enemies came forth. Rodnar and Vilkas charged their attackers in unison and fought with ferocity. Months of fighting had honed Rodnar's endurance in battle, but even so he was wearing out.

He slashed the stomach of one of his attackers and decapitated another who was running at him with his axe raised. He followed the head with his eyes as it rolled around on the floor when a blood-curdling scream rang through the chamber.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Rodnar witnessed the blade being pulled from Vilkas's chest.

The Companion looked down on his wound as he fell. On his knees, he met Rodnar's eyes, a look of defeat and surprise etched across his features.

Rodnar growled, the anger consuming him. He felt himself change. The hair on his arms grew thicker; his limbs grew, his fingernails becoming sharp and claw-like, his posture becoming hunched. He felt the fangs split through his gums and he felt his logical mind slip away.

The werewolf roared, and what was left of the enemies in the room looked on with a mix of fear and awe.

The wolf flung an enemy into a wall, crushing his bones. It tore the arms from another and chewed on the neck of someone else. It slashed and bit and feasted on the hearts of its' fallen enemies.

Finally, the werewolf laid eyes on Vilkas. He was lying in his own blood. His eyes had grown foggy and his skin was deathly white. His breath came in ragged gasps and his arms and legs twitched.

Regaining his mind, Rodnar made the painful transformation back into a man. He knelt beside Vilkas, panting.

"That was... impressive… shield-brother…" Vilkas chuckled painfully.

Rodnar smiled sadly. "C'mon, Vilkas, let's get you back to Jorvaskr."

Vilkas shook his head. The very action seemed painful to him. "I'm… done for… I'm afraid…"

"No. No, don't talk like that."

"Listen… to me, Rodnar…" Vilkas took a wheezy breath. "Take the fragment back… to Jorvaskr… let my brothers and sisters… know… that I fought bravely… that I died with… honour…"

"Yes, yes, of course." Rodnar took his dying friends hand. Tears leaked into the corners of his eyes.

"You're strong, shiled-brother," Vilkas said. He looked to one side. "My… my sword…"

Rodnar scrabbled for the greatsword and placed the hilt in Vilkas' hand. Vilka clasped it tightly.

"I'll see you in Sovngarde, friend…" Vilkas said quietly.

After that there was silence.

"Vilkas?" Rodnar asked.

Nothing.

Rodnar cried out in dismay at the pain of losing his comrade. "Vilkas!"

**Hey guys! So this is something I thought of yesterday and decided to put to paper. Since I have other commitments (such as school and work) I can't promise consistency with my chapters. But if you guys like it that may help speed things along :p**

**I appreciate any and all compliments and/or criticisms to improve my writing. Cheers.**


	2. Chapter 2

"_Vilkas!"_

Rodnar shot up with a terrifying growl. He threw the sheets off himself and raised his arms, ready to attack what wasn't there. He panted heavily as the fog of the nightmare he'd just had lifted from his mind. As he regained his breath he checked his arms and noticed as a thick mat of hair started to retract back into his skin. He swirled his tongue around his teeth and noticed they had become slightly pointed. He rested his head in his hands and let out a heavy sigh.

Next to him someone stirred. "Is everything alright, love?" The someone muttered groggily.

"Yes," Rodnar answered, "everything's fine. Go back to sleep, Ysolda."

The woman sat up and angled her husbands' head towards her, looking deep into his eyes.

"You had that dream again, didn't you?" She asked, worried.

Rodnar's hesitation told her all she needed to know.

"Rodnar…" Ysolda said softly. "We've been through this hundreds of times. Vilkas' death wasn't your fault."

"That doesn't stop it from haunting my memory."

Ysolda took her husbands hands. "I know what will make you feel better…"

Rodnar's eyebrows angled upwards. "Are you…?"

Ysolda nodded.

"What about Runa?"

"She's asleep." She said softly. "I doubt we'll wake her up."

There was a moment of silence before Ysolda leaned in and kissed her husband. The two embraced tightly and lay back down on each other, the night ready to unfold before them.

* * *

Rodnar was woken up by a ray of sunlight flitting through an open window, only to cast a ring of light on his left eye.

He groaned and arose, smiling briefly as he remembered the events of the night before. The smile quickly fell away as he remembered the nightmare. He shook his head and stood from the bed.

Ysolda, it seemed, had already left for the day. A plate of bread and goats' cheese and a jug of milk adorned the old timber table, and a pot of steaming water was resting over the fresh embers of the fire.

Rodnar ate and drank his breakfast slowly; a look of contemplation etched across his face like it was most mornings. When he was finished eating he took the steaming water and went to the washroom. He washed himself down and groomed (briefly) before getting changed into his smiths clothes, ready for another day of work.

He exited the house into the quiet streets of Riften.

Riften was situated in Skyrim's southeast, and unlike city's such as Whiterun or Solitude, it didn't see as much activity as the rest of the province. That's not to say that it wasn't busy. Riften saw most of its activity around noon, and occasionally there would be travellers and Khajiit caravans that were eager for a warm bed and a flagon of mead at the Bee and the Barb.

Even though Riften didn't see many outsiders as other cities of Skyrim, business was still good and trade fair. It was easy for merchants, jewellers, armourers and smiths to make a decent living and a fair profit. Even with the Thieves Guild in Riften, their presence was becoming less influential to the city, and instead of being revered they were being scorned.

Rodnar went straight to work, starting the day by sharpening a set of steel blades that were due to be picked up today. Rodnar was just sharpening the last blade when Grelka, his friend and business partner, rounded the corner.

People in Riften often saw Grelka as sharp and unlikeable. She was a strong Nord woman who was skilled in the use of weaponry and armour, and she could run a market stall efficiently; respectable traits in Rodnar's book. After some drinks at the Bee and the Barb, some favours completed here and there and a few discussions, the two had become close friends and business partners. Rodnar supplied quality weapons and armour according to requests and orders, Grelka bought them for a reasonable price off him and sold them to customers for a profit. It was a good system that had been in place for some years, and it had brought the two closer to the point of considering each other family rather than friends.

"Grelka, how are you?" Rodnar said as he worked the grindstone.

"I'm good, Rodnar," she replied, "Have you got the order ready?"

Rodnar smiled. _Straight to business, as always. _He thought. "Yes, it's in the rucksack over there," he gestured with a nod of his head, "I'm sharpening up the last blade now."

"Take your time," Grelka said, leaning on the side of the house, "I don't want to sell faulty weapons to my customers."

"Of course not," Rodnar said. "But in my defence, since when have I ever provided you with faulty anything?"

Grelka conceded. "You're right. The last six years have been the best years for business since I opened my stall."

Rodnar finished sharpening the blade and placed it inside the rucksack with the others'.

"There," he said, "half a dozen pristine blades. Your customers will be happy."

"I bet they will." Grelka hefted the rucksack onto her shoulder and handed over a pouch of Septims. Rodnar took the pouch with a thankful nod of the head.

"Any more orders?" He asked, washing his hands in a trough of water he had nearby for cooling hot metal.

"Yes, actually," Grelka fished a sheet of parchment from a pouch at her belt. "A few customers have requested some things. Specifically armour."

Rodnar took the parchment and poured over it. _Dwarven shield, banded iron armour, steel war axe and leather armour._

"Dwarven shield?" Rodnar raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky I know how to craft the stuff, Grelka."

Grelka gave a small smile.

Rodnar frowned.

"What's up?" She asked.

"My leather supplies are running low," Rodnar said. "Is there a specific time I need to have these crafted and ready?"

"I'm not sure," Grelka said thoughtfully. "I'm sure I can stall the customers for a few days for you to get everything you need."

"Well, I hope you can stall them long enough." Rodnar said, pocketing the parchment. "I'm going to have to take a trip into Whiterun to get that leather. I'll spend two, maybe three days in the city and out hunting game on the plains. Then I need to come back and make everything… I wager it'll take a week, a week and a half, maybe."

"I can get you that long." Grelka said instantly. "Not a problem."

"Alright then." Rodnar said. "I'll leave before dusk."

Grelka nodded and the two said a quick goodbye.

Rodnar spent the remainder of the day making arrangements to get to Whiterun. He had spoken to the carriage driver out the front of the city and gotten a good deal and had packed provisions to survive him until he got there.

Some time after noon, Rodnar had donned his studded armour and had his hunting bow strapped across his back, a quiver stocked full of steel arrows was strapped to his back. Gingerly, Rodnar sheathed his Skyforge steel sword at his side. It was a constant reminder of his time in the Companions, but it had been his best blade over the years, and the edge was still keen.

"Papa!" A barefoot girl with blonde hair and a red dress raced up to Rodnar, and he picked the girl up in his arms and spun her around.

"Runa," Rodnar said, placing the girl down.

"Mama says you'll be gone for a while." Runa said sadly.

"I will be, little-cub," Rodnar said softly. "I need you to take care of your mother, alright? Can you do that for me?"

Runa nodded her head enthusiastically. "I can do that, papa."

"Good girl." Rodnar said, hugging Runa tightly.

"I'll miss you, love," Ysolda said, kissing Rodnar on the cheek. "A part of me wishes I was coming with you."

"I know. But someone has to stay to watch over Runa and take care of the house." Rodnar looked into his wife's eyes. "We will go back to Whiterun, someday. I promise."

Ysolda nodded.

"I hate to interrupt, but if we plan to make Whiterun by tomorrow night we should get a move on." The carriage driver interrupted.

Rodnar said his last goodbyes and boarded the carriage, ready for the long voyage to Whiterun.

**Filler chapter! I don't plan on doing many author notes for this Fanfic but I felt obligated to let you know that this story takes place before the events of Skyrim. The civil war is till going on and the Dark Brotherhood, Thieves Guild and the College of Winterhold haven't seen the events of their respective questlines yet. Again, all compliments and/or criticisms are welcome and, again, thanks.**


	3. Chapter 3

Naturally, the first thing Rodnar did when he arrived to Whiterun was visit the Bannered Mare for a rich bottle of Nord mead and some tavern songs around a warm hearth. After he'd finished there he planned to go to Warmaidens to catch up with his half-brother and have a decent nights sleep before waking up at the break of dawn to hunt.

Rodnar estimated it to be around eleven at night when the carriage finally pulled up outside the Whiterun stables. He thanked the driver and paid him a few Septims before making his way up the cobblestone path and under a few small battlements before he arrived at the main gate.

The guard greeted him with the obligatory "Stay out of trouble," before letting him into the city.

Rodnar pushed open the massive wooden gates of Whiterun with some effort, and, seeing the Bannered Mare straight ahead of him some yards away, made a direct route to the inn.

The minute he entered the inn he was hit by the warmth of the fire, the smell of food and mead and the singing of various inn-frequenters. Rodnar decided on ordering a bottle of Black-Briar mead. The inn-keeper, Hulda, gave it to him happily, and in return Rodnar handed over a few Septims.

Rodnar took a seat by the fire that occupied a large stone pit in the centre of the room and took a sip of his mead, driving out the last of bitter cold that he'd had to live with over the journey.

He sat there, sipping his mead and observing the inn-dwellers. Sometimes he'd join in with a song and taunt the occasional drunken Nord who was half passed out in a corner. Otherwise he kept to himself, enjoying the calm and the warmth. However, something was niggling at the back of Rodnar's mind, like a tingling feeling at the base of his skull. He felt there were eyes on him. Despite the events that occurred during his time in the Companions, Rodnar had spent the last twelve years training his skills nonetheless. Instinct told him not to turn around and seek who was watching him. That was a sure way to be found out… and to be killed.

Rodnar was on his third bottle of mead (he'd downgraded to simple Nord mead after his first drink) when he felt the cool air rush in and heard the soft bump of a door being opened and closed.

Rodnar barely turned his head, having little interest in the newcomer. He just went back to sipping on his drink and staring into the orange tongues of the fire.

"Look who it is," Mikael, the bard of the night, said in a mocking tone. "Another go-getter who thinks he stands a chance at wooing the ladies. You best look elsewhere, Mikael has them all under his thumb."

Rodnar guessed the taunt was aimed at the newcomer. Some of the inn-dwellers rolled their eyes at Mikael's bravado, while some of the drunker ones sniggered like children.

"Your mother doesn't count, Mikael," the newcomer said.

Rodnar grinned. He knew that voice.

Mikael faltered. "I'm sorry," he regained his composure, "but all I hear is the sound of jealousy."

"Ok, Mikael," the newcomer said, and Rodnar heard the scraping of the barstool on the floor as he stood up. "How about you show me how much of a Nord you are. Besides, if you have all the ladies under your thumb, that would make you a real man, wouldn't it?"

People had started gathering around the two rivals to get a better look. Rodnar was as sure as everyone else as to what was about to unfold. He swivelled on his seat to see what was happening. Mikael, a scrawny blond Nord with shoulder length hair and an extreme superiority complex, was eyeing up the newcomer, who had shorter, scruffy hair and a clean goatee. His hair was a shade darker than Mikael's and he was more built than the bard.

Mikael seemed hesitant to accept the challenge. He glanced at Hulda, who looked at the situation with slight amusement.

_What a deviant, _Rodnar thought, shaking his head.

Mikael summoned a lukewarm roar and swung the first punch.

The newcomer stepped out of the way with ease, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "C'mon, Mikael. A Nord would actually hit me."

"Save it, half-breed," Mikael growled, throwing another punch that the newcomer also dodged.

"Half-breed?" The newcomer said. "That's rude. I'm a man, just like you."

The crowd was yelling abuse now.

"Knock him down!"

"Kill him!"

"Throw a real punch!"

"Hit the blighter!"

"Yeah, c'mon Mikael," the newcomer winked. "Hit me."

Mikael was fuming; steam might as well have been puffing from his ears. The red-faced bard gave a mighty swing at the newcomer, who dodged the blow and, in a fraction of a second, threw his fist out and caught Mikael across the mouth.

The bard crumpled to the ground and the crowd gave a roar of approval.

Rodnar joined in. _Nord bloodlust, _he thought to himself.

"Enough!" Mikael panted. "Enough… I yield…"

The newcomer raised his arms and danced around the circle, a cocky grin painted on his face. "Who else wants a go?" He challenged, and the crowd roared again.

"I'll accept your challenge," a voice said.

The crowd parted for the fighter, and a burly Nord woman clad in steel plate armour entered the ring.

"A hundred Septims says I knock your hide to the ground." The woman said.

"Easiest one hundred Septims I'll ever make." The newcomer replied.

The money was placed on the bar under Hulda's care and the two fighters raised their fists.

"C'mon! Let's do this." The woman growled.

Rodnar recognized her from somewhere, and then it came to him. Her name was Uthgerd. Rodnar recognized her from years ago. When Rodnar was just a milk-drinker among the ranks of the Companions, Uthgerd had approached Kodlak in hope that she would be accepted among them. Initially, Kodlak agreed, and everyone watched as she undertook a training session to prove her worthiness… everyone watched as she killed the man she was training with…

That ended her experience with the Companions, and Rodnar's experience of her. Since then she'd faded into the far corners of Rodnar's memory.

But as Rodnar watched the brawl in front of him, he saw that she had lost none of her vigour or anger. The newcomer was attempting his dodging game, but he seemed to be struggling. Each time he dodged he never quite made it far enough, and the blow would glance off his side or shoulder.

Finally, the newcomer decided to go on the offensive. He launched himself at his opponent and sent a flurry of punches down upon her. She resisted the assault, and with one firm punch, knocked the newcomer to the ground.

The newcomer rolled around on the wooden floor, holding his stomach as he tried to suck the air in.

_Winded, _Rodnar shook his head.

"Who wants to see me finish him off?" Uthgerd called, and she was met with a roar of approval.

She knelt down next to the newcomer and pulled her arm back to launch one devastating blow.

Rodnar remembered the incident with the Companions and his instincts kicked in.

Uthgerd through the punch, but Rodnar was there in a fraction of a second.

He caught the blow in his outstretched hand and held Uthgerd's fist tight. He felt her muscles shake as she tried to push through the resistance.

"I think he's had enough, don't you?" Rodnar said evenly, eyes locked on Uthgerd's.

A flicker of defiance sparked in her eyes, but when she saw Rodnar wasn't backing down, she gave in.

"Fine." She said shortly, rising from the ground and snatching the two hundred Septims from the bar.

The crowd booed before returning back to their original places and getting back to inn life.

The newcomer was still rolling around on the floor, trying to suck the air in.

"Come on." Rodnar said, gripping the boy by the collar of his shirt and lifting him up. "Let's get you home."

The pair hobbled out of the Bannered Mare, Rodnar supporting the newcomer, and began walking down the cobblestone path.

Rodnar heard the boy begin to breathe properly before he spoke up. "You best keep yourself out of such situations, Aerian. It's a sure way to get yourself killed."

The boy, Aerian, pulled away from Rodnar and looked at him up and down. A grin broke out on his face. "Uncle Rodnar. By the Nine it's good to see you!"

The two briefly embraced.

"You're a little young to be frequenting inns, Aerian." Rodnar said, looking at his nephew.

"I'm nineteen, I'll do as I will." Aerian replied good-naturedly.

"That attitude will get you killed, boy." Rodnar warned.

Aerian shrugged. "Then I guess I'll die."

The two laughed and made their way down the path to Warmaidens.

"So why are you back in Whiterun, Rodnar?" Aerian asked. "Here to re-join the Companions?"

Rodnar rolled his eyes. "Nay, I'm here to hunt. I need leather if I want to keep my family alive for another season. Speaking of the Companions, are you not one of them?"

Aerian shook his head. "Not me. My parents won't let me."

"You'll do as you will, but you're more than happy to sulk when your parents won't let you do something," Rodnar chuckled. "That's amusing."

The two talked some more about the events of the past few years, and were almost home when Rodnar felt the niggling feeling again.

He saw a cloaked figure hiding in the shadows of a house out of the corner of his eye. His hand subconsciously went to his sword.

"Stay here." Rodnar said quietly.

Aerian may have been cocky and arrogant, but he wasn't stupid. He heeded Rodnar's words and stood still in his place.

Rodnar drew his blade and walked over to the shadows. He pointed the shining steel at the figure. "Who are you?" Rodnar growled.

"If you plan to kill me," the cloaked figure said, "at least do it like a hunter."

The figure removed its hood and stepped out into the light, revealing Aela the Huntress.

"Aela," Rodnar said, sheathing his blade and grasping his former Shield-Sister's hand.

"I saw you enter the inn. I know you knew I was there. No one could miss your ears perking up." Aela said.

Rodnar looked at Aela carefully. She looked much the same as she did twelve years ago. Her features were still sharp, her figure was still fit and her war paint was still prominent. The only noticeable difference were the wrinkles that had made themselves known at her brow and the strands of grey that coloured her predominantly brown-red hair.

"Why did you follow me, Aela?" Rodnar asked. "You never were one for reunions."

Aela sighed. "I sought you out because we need you back among the ranks of the Companions."

Rodnar nodded, his mouth a firm line. He'd figures as much. "Why?"

"It's the Silver Hand. They've become more bold. They're beginning to attack us directly at Jorrvaskr. Hit and run attacks, nothing major. But an assault will come soon, I know it. We need as many Companions as we can to defend Jorrvaskr."

"I can't," Rodnar said. "If I join you I will be re-joining my nightmare. I'll be walking towards certain death. I have a family, I have another life that I cannot abandon, not now."

"No one cares about what happened twelve years ago, Rodnar!" Aela said sternly. "So you lost a Shield-Sibling on a mission? There is no other way Vilkas would have wanted to go. We were proud of him. And we were proud of you. You were one of the best warriors we had. You were one of the best hunters I trained."

"I don't understand why you need me," Rodnar said, getting defensive. "Can't Kodlak just ask for help and people will come running?"

Aela's expression became soft. Rodnar noticed. "What?" He asked.

"Kodlak is sick, Rodnar…" Aela said. "He's been bed-ridden for months now. He's been in and out of consciousness, he has a fever. He's not living, he's surviving."

Rodnar hung his head. Kodlak was a good man, and didn't deserve such an illness.

"He won't survive much longer…" Aela added.

"I'm sorry, Aela…" Rodnar said after some time. "But I can't come back to the Companions. I have a living to uphold and a family to care for."

Aela nodded her head. She was defeated, but understanding.

"I wish you the best of luck." Rodnar said, turning back to where Aerian was standing.

Aela raised her hood and melted back into the shadows.

"Who was that?" Aerian asked. "A friend?"

"No," Rodnar replied. "A sister."

* * *

Later that night Aerian and Rodnar had arrived at Warmaidens. Rodnar was greeted by Adrianne and Ulfberth, and the trio drank and told stories until early in the morning.

Rodnar retired to a bed that was set up at the back of the store at around two in the morning, and fell into a cosy, mead-induced sleep.

He was awoken by screaming and running footsteps on stone. It couldn't have been much later.

Rodnar looked out the window and saw the first of the suns rays peaking over the mountains. He rolled over and spied Aerian looking at him frantically.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know," Aerian said, "but I'm not waiting until morning to find out."

Aerian bolted from Warmaidens and, after some moments, Rodnar followed him.

Outside the shop swarms of people were trampling up the path in panic towards a column of smoke that rose high into the sky. The smoke seemed to be coming from the direction of…

"No…" Rodnar muttered. He raced through the crowds of people and through Whiterun, climbing steps three at a time and knocking over those around him.

As he ran he began to hear the sound of crackling fire, and as he rounded a corner he saw the blaze. Jorrvaskr was up in flames.

Rodnar sprinted to the base of the old wooden structure, now a burning heap in the middle of a stone courtyard.

In front of the burning Jorrvaskr was a pike with the head of a man on it.

"No…" Rodnar said again, for the head was that of Kodlak Whitemane's, the harbinger of the Companions.

His features were contorted in a grotesque fashion; his brow angled one way and his tongue hanging limp from his mouth. His hair was caked in blood and the pike his head sat on was painted with blood also.

Rodnar looked to his right and saw Aela the Huntress. Her face was grim and her eyes were alive with determination and anger. She caught his gaze, and he gave her a nod.

She understood the gesture and nodded back.

For on the face of the dead Kodlak Whitemane, it was unmistakable. Painted in silver on his face was a hand.

A Silver Hand.


	4. Chapter 4

"It was Njada," Aela said, her face showing no signs of sadness or anger; the lack of emotion that disturbed Rodnar. "She sold us out to the Silver Hand."

The majority of the day had been spent scouring the ruins of Jorrvaskr in search of anything that may have been untouched by the blaze; namely survivors.

Rodnar riffled through ashes and chunks of half-burnt wood, finding an abundance of corpses burnt beyond recognition. It was sad to see so many people he'd fought with dead, and he didn't even know who they were.

"Help," Rodnar heard someone cough. "Help me…"

He heard the splintering of charred wood as it was moved, and turned to see Aela clasping a dark grey hand that matched the colour of the ash.

With a heave, Athis was pulled from the wreckage. He coughed, and Rodnar saw he and Aela exchange words, though he knew not what those words were. He could have guessed what those words were, as Athis shook his head and Aela put both her hands on his shoulders, both of the Companions hanging their heads.

Rodnar tore his eyes away from what he was looking at and started rummaging through the ashes again. Most things sifted through his hands as they turned to ash, the only things really blocking his dig were the support beams that formerly held up the roof of Jorrvaskr.

After some time rummaging Rodnar's hand brushed over something solid. It wasn't wood, but it wasn't ash either. Rodnar grasped the mystery object and pulled it from the ash. He dusted it off and flipped the book open. It wasn't a printed book, and there was no author titled at the start. Nevertheless, Rodnar recognized the hand that wrote the book.

_Kodlak's journal… _He thought, depositing the book in the satchel at his side.

"Uncle Rodnar? Aela?" Aerian called. "I've found something."

Rodnar made his way over to where Aerian was in the remains of Jorrvaskr. He was kneeling, holding something up, though Rodnar couldn't see what it was.

He saw Aela gasp, and Rodnar saw what Aerian was holding.

Aerian was supporting Ria. She had her eyes closed, and Rodnar couldn't tell if she was alive or not. Her clothes were charred and a portion of her face was tainted with burn marks.

"Who is it?" Athis called from his sitting spot near the Skyforge.

"Ria." Aela responded.

"Is she alive?"

"We don't know yet."

Aerian nodded his head. "She's breathing. Barely." He added. He got the young Imperial's arm over his shoulder. "Help me with this, would you?"

Aela helped support Ria as her and Aerian half carried, half dragges her over next to Athis, who immediately tried to work some magic to help heal her, without success.

For the next hour Rodnar and Aela did another sweep of the wreckage.

"Anyone else?" Rodnar asked.

Aela simply shook her head.

Some time later, the survivors, along with Adrianne Avenicci and Ulfberth War-Bear, were gathered around a table in Warmaidens.

"How do you know it was Njada?" Ria asked, sitting on a chair, a flask of water in her hand.

"It's her scent," Aela said. "It was missing."

Ria didn't seem satisfied with Aela's answer, but she didn't question further.

At that moment Aerian entered the house with an armful of bread and vegetables. "Why are there guards outside the house?" He asked.

"It's the Jarl." Aela said. "He summoned us to Dragonsreach to be protected."

"Like we're whelps who can't fend for ourselves." Athis growled.

"Easy, Athis." Rodnar said, laying a hand on the Dunmer's shoulder.

"Right." Aerian said. "Second question. Why is everyone here? Is this a meeting or something?"

"That's exactly what it is." Aela replied, giving Aerian a stern look.

Adrianne caught on to it. "Come over here, Aerian." She said, a silent warning in her words.

Aerian caught on and, with a roll of his eyes, took his place next to his parents.

"So what do we do from here?" Ria asked.

"We've sat back and let this threat grow long enough," Aela said, getting right back down to business. "The Silver Hand have been gaining in numbers for years, and we've foolishly neglected not to root them out like the weeds they are. We need to take the fight to them. They've dealt their blow, now it's time for us to play our hand."

"But… how?" Ria asked.

"Yeah, Aela," Athis added in. "There are only three of us –"

"Four," Rodnar said, standing at his full height. "Those scum killed my friends too. I would be glad to help destroy them."

Athis, along with the other Companions in the room, looked at Rodnar admiringly. Aerian smiled, but Adrianne and Ulfberth hung their heads.

Athis grinned more humorously. "Ok," he continued, "four. But how are four Companions going to take down a faction of thugs?"

Rodnar caught Aela's eye and raised an eyebrow. _You haven't told them?_

Aela gave a subtle shake of the head.

"I'm aware that the odds are against us." Aela said, addressing the rest of the Companions. "But if we plan our attacks, we can do massive damage."

"Hit and run tactics. A leaf from the Argonian's book." Ria nodded, understanding.

"Hold on, Aela," Athis butt in. "Are you asking us to be _subtle? _We're the Companions, subtle was never our thing."

"You're obviously not a hunter, Athis." Rodnar said, a small grin at his mouth. "Aela is one of the stealthiest patrons in all of Skyrim. Even more so than some Dark Brotherhood assassins."

"And I can say the same for Rodnar." Aela said. "I'm telling you, if we plot our attacks, and hit with speed and force, we can deal massive damage to the Silver Hand."

"Yes, yes, you've said that," Athis replied, rubbing his forehead. "But I'd like to return to my earlier comment. There are only four of us."

"What about me?" Aerian piped up.

"What about you?" Aela retorted.

"I could join the Companions."

"To Oblivion you will!" Adrianne yelled. "You will not go gallivanting around, risking your life for a cause you have no connection to! Tell him, Ulfberth."

Aerian turned to his father, who remained silent.

Adrianne looked shock. "Ulfberth, you're not serious?"

"He's not a boy anymore, Adrianne," Ulfberth said calmly. "We can't protect him forever. Besides, the Companions are an honourable faction. I'd be proud to say my son is one of them."

Adrianne opened her mouth to retort, but hesitated. She hung her head, defeated.

"Well, I'll not take him." Aela said.

Everyone's eyes snapped to her.

Aela got in Aerian's face. "I saw how you acted in the inn, _boy._" She spat the word like venom. "You have no honour. You are cocky and arrogant. You don't deserve the title of Companion."

Aerian stood his ground. "That may be true, but that won't stop me from learning. I can learn discipline and respect; I can earn my own honour. Besides," he continued, "you said yourself, it's time for us to play our hand. If I join you, there will be five of us. It takes five fingers to make up a hand."

Aela gave Aerian the coldest look Rodnar had ever seen. The other Companions looked on with slight amusement.

"I'll train him," Rodnar said, arms crossed. "He'll be my responsibility. I'll turn him into a fine warrior. And an even finer hunter."

Aela looked Rodnar up and down. "I trust your judgement, Rodnar. But if he gets anyone killed –"

"He won't." Rodnar cut in. "By the end of this, we'll all be proud to call him Shield-Brother."

Rodnar looked sidelong at Aerian, who gave him a nod of thanks. Rodnar winked at him.

"Ok, Aela," Athis said, interrupting the silence that had settled over the room. "So what's the plan?"

Aela nodded, and leaned over the map of Skyrim on the table. "Ok, this is what we're going to do…"


	5. Chapter 5

Aerian sat crouched in the snow, along with the other Companions, and kept his eye on the watchtower ahead. Rodnar was to his left, the other Companions to his right. Aela was furthest from him. Aerian wasn't surprised.

The five were wrapped in furs the Jarl had purchased for them from Belethor's General Goods and some of the Khajiit caravans that the cats had erected outside Whiterun's walls. The furs were that of Ice Wolves and Snowy Saber Cats, mixtures of white and grey, perfect for blending in to the snowy environment atop the mountain. Under the furs Aerian knew the Companions were wearing their armour. He had armour too, though it wasn't the finest. Hide armour never was…

"_The Silver Hand have set up in a few bandit camps dotted around Skyrim," Aela said, tracing her finger around the map. "The closest is maybe half a days trek from here. Bleak Falls Barrow." She made a mark on the map with some charcoal. Everyone gathered around the table nodded. "The Silver Hand have no reason to believe that some of us survived the fire, so they won't be expecting us." Aela continued. "I estimate we can make our move in a day. Two at the most."_

_Everyone nodded their heads and murmured in agreement._

"_That won't work." Rodnar said._

"_Why?" Aela asked. If it were anyone else she would have broken their arms._

_Rodnar took the charcoal from Aela. "Bleak Falls Barrow sits at the top of the mountain. If we travel up the north side their archers will spot us and shoot us down before we make it."_

_The gathering nodded, understanding._

"_Then what do you propose we do?" Aela asked._

"_We go around the mountain, to Riverwood, and we make our way up the south side. The path leads to the summit, and there are plenty of rocks we can use as cover on the way. We have better odds going that way." _

"_How do you know this?" Ria asked._

"_I chased a Frost Troll up there once. Wasn't fun."_

_Ria was satisfied with the answer._

"_The only problem," Rodnar continued, "is there's a watchtower on the south side. It overlooks everything out to the Jerall Mountains. If the Silver Hand were smart, they'd position a small team there just in case of a surprise attack."_

_The group went silent, thinking about the problem. Rodnar's plan was the preferred idea, but the watchtower posed an issue._

"_We could use camouflage?" Aerian said._

_Everyone looked at him, Aela with a hint of disgust._

"_Do tell." Athis said._

_Rodnar could see the cogs in Aerian's head turning. _Must be his Imperial side, _he thought._

"_We could get the pelts of Ice Wolves and Snowy Saber Cats and stuff. We could wrap them around ourselves. They'd work as camouflage in the snowy landscape, and they'd help keep the chill out. I know Belethor has a few Ice Wolf pelts, and the Khajiit outside the walls might have some too." Aerian stated._

_The Companions smiled. Even Aela seemed slightly impressed. "Camouflage it is."_

The Companions stayed in Whiterun for a day after that before they left. It had taken another three days for them to travel around and up to where they were now. Aerian knew his uncle had suggested they wait another day or two, but Aela wouldn't wait to do her damage to the Silver Hand.

Aerian had trained briefly with Rodnar during that day. At some point even Athis decided to help. They trained with blades, and Aerian recalled that his iron sword was too light.

He knew his uncle had got the message. Aerian needed some weight to his weapon. He instructed Athis to keep training with Aerian and left, only to return at dusk with a steel war axe, freshly forged.

"I spot three lookouts," Aela said quietly, bringing Aerian back to the present.

"I see them." That was Rodnar.

Aerian heard Ria make a sound, signalling she too saw the lookouts.

"Bows," Aela said, and herself, Ria and Rodnar each drew their bows, knocking an arrow to their respective strings.

"Mark A." Rodnar said.

"Mark B." Ria added on.

"Mark C." Aela finished.

Aerian wondered how they knew what each other meant by that.

"Loose." Aela said, and the three archers released their arrows.

Aerian heard the thin whistle of arrows fly through the air, and the three lookouts folded in unison. He knew they were dead, because one of the lookouts collapsed and fell from the watchtower and off of the side of the mountain.

"Perfect." Aela grinned.

The group snuck in a single line to the watchtower.

"Athis. Ria." Aela said, gesturing to the watchtower.

The Dark Elf and the Imperial nodded, and drawing their swords they entered the watchtower.

"The Barrow is up that path and to the left." Rodnar said to Aela, pointing. "We might stand a better chance if we get someone to climb the rocks and support us from a distance."

"Leave it to me." Aela said, and she began scaling the rocks immediately.

She climbed with such skill that Aerian believed her to be born on this mountain.

Athis and Ria exited the watchtower; Ria's sword had a thin layer of blood on it.

"There was one left." She said. "A sleeper."

"He'll be sleeping for a very long time now," Athis said grimly.

Aerian wasn't sure how he felt by that statement, but he shook it off. He followed the four around the corner and gasped. Bleak Falls Barrow stood majestic on the summit of the mountain. The architecture of ancient Nords was extraordinary, and Aerian felt as if nothing that could be built today would even match the excellence of the Barrow.

"Aerian," Rodnar said sharply, interrupting Aerian's thoughts. "Find cover."

The other three Companions had crouched behind rocks. Aerian hurried behind one and peeked out from the side.

He spotted two Silver Hand. One was a lookout; the other guarded the door to the Barrow.

Aerian blinked in surprise as the lookout toppled from his platform and face-planted into the snow. He noticed the other Silver Hand jump in alarm, and turn to open the doors of the Barrow before he too collapsed to the ground.

A soft whistle echoed around the summit, carried on the wind.

"That's Aela," Rodnar said, standing. "We have the all clear."

The four walked up the stairs to the Barrow and met Aela at the doors.

"Good shooting." Ria said.

Aela nodded her head. "Ok, remember the plan…"

"_I estimate there to be about thirty Silver Hand set up in the Barrow." Aela said. "It being a Nordic ruin, I anticipate they will go through and purge the place of Draugr. So by the time we enter, I assume we'll only have to deal with twenty. Twenty five at the most."_

"_We should leave our furs at the door," Athis said. "They'll do us no good inside the Barrow. The white would stand out." _

"_Agreed," Aela nodded her head. _

"_Back to the plan." Rodnar said._

"_Of course," Aela said. "Ria and I will branch out and find the back corners of the room and stay hidden. Meanwhile, you and Athis will attack the Silver Hand head on. We'll give support from behind while the two of you deal damage on the forefront."_

_Everyone seemed satisfied with the plan. Everyone except for Aerian. He cleared his throat. "Uh… Yeah, what about me?"_

_Aela looked at Aerian coldly. "You will stay out of our way and try not to get yourself, or anyone else, killed."_

_Aerian opened his mouth to argue by Rodnar gave him a light elbow in the ribs._

"_Understood?" Aela asked, though it was more of a demand._

"_Understood." Aerian said._

_The group parted to get some supplies until it was just Rodnar and Aerian in the room at Warmaidens. Aerian sighed and sat on the table. "This isn't going well…"_

"_Just stick close to me." Rodnar said. "I'll talk to Aela."_

"_Thanks, uncle Rodnar."_

"Get ready." Athis said, nudging Aerian.

Aerian crouched low into a sneaking position and drew his war axe. The weight was perfect, but his left hand had nothing, making balance feel odd.

Rodnar slowly opened the door to the Barrow and Ria and Aela filtered in like ghosts. The three males waited for half a minute before they followed.

Aerian followed Athis and Rodnar into the Barrow. It took Aerian a little while before his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the Nordic crypt, but when they did he saw everyone standing at full height. A pile of bodies lay near the entrance, and two more lay near a fire some yards away, arrows sprouting from their heads.

"I count seven." Rodnar whispered.

"That means there are only about twenty three Silver Hand left." Athis said.

"Twenty one." Aela corrected, indicating the two dead thugs near the fire.

"Twenty one." Athis echoed. "Ok, let's go."

The five crouched again and snuck through the Barrow, the girls leading. Every time they reached a new room the girls would go in first and find a hiding spot. The men would wait for fifteen seconds before following, ready to charge at the enemy if they were there. But they never found the enemy. Instead the bodies of undead littered the floor.

"They're not here…" Aerian muttered.

"Oh, they're here." Aela said. "I can smell them."

The Companions (other than Rodnar) gave Aela a funny look, but didn't ask any questions.

They kept on creeping through the crypt, sticking to the same system but always finding the same thing. Aerian spied a chest in one of the rooms and went to investigate. An arrow implanted itself in the wood of the chest, and Aerian recoiled in surprise. He turned and saw Aela glaring at him.

"We're here to hunt, not loot; _boy._" She hissed.

Aerian grumbled and went back to following the group.

The crypt eventually opened up into a cave. A stream trickled along the floor and ran over the edge of a hole that made itself known in one of the cave walls.

"We're getting close." Aela said.

They snuck through the cave and Aerian peeked out through the hole. It looked as if the cave curled around and led downwards. The waterfall cascaded into a small pond at the base of the cavern and a natural bridge connected the cave to another tunnel. On the bridge Aerian saw a man. A living man wearing what looked like iron armour and a sword different to any other Aerian had ever seen.

He peeked over the edge some more and almost slipped. A flurry of pebbles fell and landed bounced off the sides of the rocks.

Aerian closed his eyes, swearing profusely in his mind.

The Silver Hand looked up and saw Aerian. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Bandi-" He shouted, but his word was cut short though as one of Aela's arrows found the mans' skull. Nevertheless, the shout attracted attention.

"Fool!" Aela spoke harshly. "Why not just throw yourself off the edge next time!"

"What do we do now, Aela?" Ria asked.

"The time for subtlety is over. We must fight head on."

"Finally," Athis murmured.

The Companions all drew their weapons. The hiss of steel on leather filled the cave.

"Ria, you stay up here and provide support from above." Aela commanded.

Ria nodded, taking her bow from her back.

Aela and Athis charged down through the cave.

Aerian looked to Rodnar. "Stay close to me," his uncle told him.

Aerian nodded and ran with Rodnar as they made their way down the cave as well. When they got to the bridge Aela and Athis were fighting with some of the Silver Hand who had responded to the call.

The bridge was narrow, and Aerian saw it was difficult fighting side by side.

Ria rained arrows down upon the Silver Hand, and one by one they dropped. Some more came from the other side of the bridge, and Aela and Athis swung their blades at them.

"There's no getting there." Rodnar said, taking his bow from his back. He knocked an arrow and fired, the arrow arcing through the air into the eye of a Silver Hand.

Aerian was impressed with his uncle. The fighting continued like this for a few minutes, Ria and Rodnar shooting arrows, Athis and Aela up close and personal.

Aerian shifted his balance from one foot to the other. His knuckles were white he was gripping his war axe so tight. His heart hammered in his chest. He wanted to fight.

It was as if the Gods had answered his prayers, as a Silver Hand made it through the foray and spotted Aerian. The Silver Hand charged and Aerian ran to meet him.

"Aerian!" Rodnar called, but Aerian ignored him.

The Silver Hand and Aerian met, and the warrior swung his greatsword in a wide arc across at Aerian. Aerian fell backwards to evade the blow and kicked out at his attackers legs. The Silver Hand recoiled as his shins were assaulted and Aerian gathered himself onto his feet and swung his war axe at his attacker. The axe missed as the attacker evaded and swung once again at Aerian, who jumped out of the way, almost falling from the bridge, to avoid the deadly stroke.

Aerian decided on a fast series of attacks and swung his axe at all angles to hit the Silver Hand. But the Silver Hand dodged every one. Aerian gave another swing of his axe and felt it connect with flesh. The Silver Hand cried out in pain as blood spilled from the wound on his shoulder.

His confidence growing, Aerian gave a mighty swing, but the Silver Hand swung his sword to parry. There was a ring as steel clashed against silver, and a mighty jolt as the strength of the two blades halted each other in the air.

Aerian cried out in pain as he dropped his axe and cradled his hand. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he may have severely sprained his wrist.

The Silver Hand lifted his sword above his head to deal a finally devastating blow when an arrow split the mans neck. Blood spilled onto the snow and the Silver Hand dropped to his knees, the greatsword falling from his now lifeless grasp.

Aerian looked over to Rodnar, who was lowering his bow. Their eyes met, and Aerian felt ashamed as Rodnar looked at him with disappointment.

Aerian broke his eyes away from Rodnar and looked across to the other Companions, just as Aela cut the throat of a Silver Hand. As the Silver Hand spun Athis cut her legs from under her, and the thug fell from the bridge.

Ria appeared at Aerian's side, and she helped him get to his feet. "Thank you," he muttered, casting his eyes to the ground.

"I guess the rest of them aren't coming then." Aela said.

"How many were there?" Ria asked.

"I counted eighteen." Athis was the one who answered.

"That sounds about right" Aela confirmed.

"That means there must be…" Rodnar did the math in his head. "Three more."

"Undoubtedly the leader of this particular camp." Aela looked at Aerian and shook her head. Aerian knew he must've looked pretty pitiful during that fight.

"Rodnar and I will go on," Aela said, "we can handle three thugs. Ria, Athis, go back to Riverwood with Aerian and seek some aid. We'll rendezvous with you there before heading back to Whiterun."

"Can do." Athis said, turning to make his way back through the crypt.

"Come on, Aerian." Ria said softly, following Athis.

Aerian sighed and turned, following the two from the crypt.


	6. Chapter 6

"Why did you bring him?" Aela asked accusingly as she and Rodnar stalked through the crypt.

"He deserves to be here as much as we do." Rodnar said simply.

Aela stopped him. "No he doesn't." She said. "He's no Companion. All he has done is hinder us."

"He's been a with us for little over four days." Rodnar countered. "And, as I remember, it was Aerian who came up with the camouflage idea."

"We could have succeeded without it."

"You're right, _we _could have." Rodnar said. "But what of Ria or Athis or even Aerian himself? They could be lying in the snow with an arrow in their chest if not for Aerian's idea."

Aela scowled. "You saw how he fought – "

"That," Rodnar interrupted, "was from a lack of training. I will teach him. I'm sure Athis will be happy to help as well. Believe me when I say he'll make a fine Companion."

Aela looked doubtful.

"You said you trusted my judgement, and this is it. Aerian stays with us."

Reluctantly, Aela nodded her head and the two kept on creeping through the crypt.

They made their way through the crypt unhindered until they came to a wooden door situated on a higher level of the Nordic tomb.

Aela held up a hand. _Stop._

She pointed to the door and held up three fingers. _They're inside._

Rodnar nodded and took his bow from his back, fitting an arrow to the string.

Aela drew a dagger and knocked on the door.

The two heard footsteps as one of the Silver Hand approached. The door opened and in an instant Aela had plunged her dagger into the throat of the Silver Hand.

She grabbed him and fell with him to the floor as Rodnar rounded the corner and spied his target. He caught sight of him and let the arrow fly across the long room, the arrow planting itself firmly in the skull of one other Silver Hand.

Rodnar replaced his bow on his back and drew his sword, striding into the long room.

Aela threw the body from on top of her and stood, following Rodnar into the long room.

The room was fairly wide, with torches lighting the interior. It stretched some distance. At the end of the room there was a strange wall with an unordinary keyhole, undoubtedly an Ancient Nord puzzle door. At that end of the room there was a table with three chairs around it. Standing by the table was a Silver Hand with his greatsword drawn. He wore steel armour from head to toe.

"How are you here?" The Silver Hand called, barely concealing his fear. "You're all dead."

"Not all of us." Aela growled.

"But we destroyed your home." The Silver Hand said, trying to comprehend what was happening. "You were all inside. You all died!"

"You think by destroying our home we would just flee like mice?" Aela spat. "We are the Companions. We do not cower and hide when we are threatened."

"But you're all dead. You're supposed to be dead." In that instant the Silver Hand vaulted over the table and charged.

Rodnar saw the attack coming and shifted his feet to a fighting stance.

The Silver Hand was clumsy, not thinking clearly through the shock and the fear.

He charged Rodnar with his sword above his head, screaming like a madman.

Before he could bring the sword down upon his foe, Rodnar stepped forward and cut the werewolf hunter across the throat.

The crash of steel echoed around the crypt as the now dead Silver Hand hit the floor.

Rodnar sheathed his sword. "Not quite a lieutenant." He said.

"Some men forget how to survive when they're faced with circumstances they don't expect." Aela put in.

Rodnar gave her an odd look, to which she replied with a sly smile.

Aela made her way to the table and looked at what was on it.

"Nothing much," she said, as if predicting the question Rodnar was about to ask. "Just some potions and coin."

Rodnar's shoulders sagged. _Nothing to go off._

"But there is this…" Aela said thoughtfully.

From the table she picked up a piece of paper.

"What is it?" Rodnar asked.

"Look for yourself." Aela said, handing Rodnar the paper.

Rodnar took it and studied it. "A map of Skyrim." He said.

Aela nodded. "Indeed. But look closer."

Rodnar did, and he noticed several dots made in charcoal around the map. He looked up at Aela, mouth wide. "Do you think –?"

Aela nodded again. "I do."

* * *

It was some hours later when Ria, Athis and a deflated Aerian walked into the village of Riverwood.

It was dusk, and the town seemed to be operating as normal, oblivious to the events of what had happened at the Barrow.

_How would they know? _Aerian scolded himself. The deeds of the Companions only travel fast when the deed is a success. _And this was no success._

Ria had helped support Aerian down the mountain although he didn't need it. Athis had walked in front of them with his sword drawn, just in case they were attacked by a stray wolf or skeever.

When they arrived in Riverwood they immediately went to the inn. If anyone were to heal Aerian, it would be someone there. And at least once they were there they could get some rest.

Ria sat Aerian down on a chair in front of the fire while she talked to the innkeeper. Athis had already ordered a mug of mead and was sitting on his own enjoying the alcoholic drink.

The innkeeper walked with Ria over to Athis.

"What did you do to yourself?" She asked.

_Straight to the point. _Aerian thought to himself. "I think I sprained my wrist."

The innkeeper took his hand and Aerian winced. She seemed oblivious to his pain and kept flipping the hand over and examining it.

"This is no sprain." The innkeeper said. "You've gone and broken it. I won't ask how, that business is your own."

"Can you fix it?" Ria asked.

"No, you'll have to see a proper healer." The innkeeper replied with a shake of her head. "I can just dull the pain."

"Please do." Aerian said through gritted teeth.

The innkeeper nodded and closed her eyes. A golden light began to seep from her hand. The light flowed like water over to Aerian and wrapped itself around his hand, shining and sparkling as it found the areas that needed fixing. Aerian felt the relief of the healing spell as it dulled the pain in his hand to a slight throb.

The innkeeper released her grasp on Aerian's hand, breathing heavily. He noticed that she was sweating.

"That must've taken a lot out of you." Aerian said without thinking.

The innkeeper eyed him.

"Thank you." Aerian said sincerely, reaching into his pocket and taking some gold from it.

The innkeeper took the gold with a nod and hurried off behind her bar.

Aerian sighed and hung his head.

"What's wrong?" Ria asked, trying to hide an amused smile.

"I failed." Aerian said bluntly.

Ria chuckled. "Think nothing of it. You're not trained like us. Put effort in and you'll be a Companion in no time."

She turned to walk away when Aerian stopped her.

"Ria!" He called.

Ria turned. "Yes?"

Aerian looked at her. "Thank you for helping me." He said.

Ria smiled. "We look out for each other in the Companions." She said.

Aerian watched as she turned into her room and shut the door.

He sighed and shuffled a little closer to the fire. He felt the warmth wash over him and his eyes drooped. Soon, he was asleep.


End file.
